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There is a human that lit up the spirit world and Hanzo was fascinated by him.
The small town closest to his family’s territories in the spirit realm was nestled against a mountainous shore, its small port bringing fishermen and traders.
He appeared on a random day as Hanzo lay on his back to warm the scales on his belly. His sky-blue scales scattered the sun’s light, and it danced around him. A sudden faint ripple traveled along the breeze, making Hanzo’s ear twitch.
“Do you feel that?” Hanzo asked Genji, his brother, who was sprawled beside him. He dragged his eyes open, yawned wide, and blinked at Hanzo. “Feel what?” He asked in response as he stretched his legs.
Disturbances in the spirit realm were few and far apart, and the gentleness of it left Hanzo curious. He shook himself to full awareness and took off from the ground, leaving his brother behind. His serpentine body did a roll purely out of instinct to gain speed in its flight.
The ripple turned musical, the faint notes driving Hanzo to fly faster. He shot through the sky, a bright streak flying quick as an arrow seeking its destination. It swelled into a symphony the closer he got, the intensity of it almost driving a frenzy within him. He crested over a mountain and there it was, the cause of such urgency.
He appeared to be a man no different than others. Hanzo would’ve dismissed him as such if his soul didn’t sing so brightly. He was standing before a rickety hut that looked a gust away from toppling in on itself. With his back to him, all Hanzo could see was the haphazardly chopped hair that sat on his neck, the broad shoulders, and the slightly bowed legs.
The door flew open, and Hanzo saw the man straighten himself as an old man stepped out. After a few words, the new human strode off, leaving the man behind. He turned and Hanzo finally understood why his soul sang so loud – the man’s amber brown eyes shone with such sincerity that it echoed into the spirit world.
He was young with scruff lining his face and dirt visible on his threadbare clothes. Despite that, he smiled wide with genuine gratitude as he moved to follow after the old man.
Hanzo found himself floating after him. His shining soul brought life to his surroundings and Hanzo saw the dark canopy of forest trees color to life. The trek continued on till they walked to the port town’s market.
All the moving bodies and bustling lives stayed silent in the spirit realm but the man’s joy at seeing them fueled Hanzo too, and he gladly followed him as he ambled around following the cobbled roads.
That day started a new chapter that Hanzo never could have envisioned. Time had no real meaning in the spirit realm. Spirits’ lives stretched on for however long they wanted until they decided it was time for them to unspool the magic that gave them form and return to the fabric of their realm.
Hanzo now found himself feeling time for the first time as he spent his days around the man’s waking hours – he felt it when the man quenched his thirst after a long day, sensed the man’s eyelids getting heavy as sleep tugged at him, felt the sharp sting of a splinter that had the man sucking on his finger to ease the pain. The man felt even the smallest of joys with an intensity that left Hanzo feeling untethered.
When that fascination turned to longing Hanzo did not know but he welcomed it feeling an increasing sense of closeness tying them together. “This is so unlike you, Hanzo,” his father said one day when he finally caught his son spying on the human. “He is hardly anything special.” He was twice as long as his eldest son and his shadow eclipsed Hanzo while he floated in place above him.
“He’s been moping after it for a while now, father,” Genji quipped up, making Hanzo snap his teeth at his brother.
His mother glided down from the skies and rested next to her mate, both of them peering down at their sons. “Has he summoned you? Perhaps that is what you feel,” she said to Hanzo, who shook his head. “No. It was his soul that called to me,” he replied back.
They stayed hovering above their sons before bowing their great heads down and nuzzling the horns that decorated Hanzo’s head. Genji let out a childish chirp and wormed his way between his family, not wanting to be left out.
Whatever they thought about their son was never brought up, leaving Hanzo to feel like they knew more than they let on. He thought on that for a bit, wishing that he was privy to their thoughts but it faded quickly - he hoped it would reveal itself in due time. Living through the human felt more joyous and Hanzo decided he would rather have him instead.
It all changed when a sudden burst of pain ignited the human’s soul lightning quick leaving Hanzo to feel it too. Whatever happened to the man left him feeling abandoned and alone, and Hanzo felt the crippling pulses of sadness that beat inside him like heartbeats. Following him around answered nothing; the man went about his days with pain miring his insides and settling between the bones.
Hanzo now spent his days listlessly drifting around, a behavior that had Genji staring at him with concern. “Hanzo, will you tell me what is going on with you?” he asked one day when he simply could not take his brother’s agitation any longer.
The question caught Hanzo as he was taking off for another round of listless flying. He paused, his brother’s interruption forcing him to acknowledge the depth of what he was feeling.
The spirit realm was tethered to the living world, but it rarely experienced any of the human lives that littered its surface. Yet here he was, feeling something as insignificant as the daily life of a simple human. His parents’ silence regarding the human came to the forefront of his mind, confirming that they knew more than they let on.
He landed and dug his claws into the ground as a new thought formed itself and quickly caught momentum.
“I have to talk to them,” he said to Genji as he took flight again, this time with purpose. “To whom?” Genji asked, his voice already fading away. “Brother, where are you going?!”
Hanzo ignored his brother in favor of seeking his parents out, hoping that Genji would have the sense to follow him. His search took him to their favorite haunt: a reclusive temple nestled between two mountains. It was a popular spot for humans to leave behind offerings for the mighty dragon spirits.
They were curled around each other as Hanzo’s father groomed his mate, his tongue licking clean the scales between her horns. Their bodies radiated a tranquility that Hanzo interrupted as he landed with a thud beside them and moments later, he felt Genji land beside him.
His mother turned her head away from her mate and greeted Hanzo with silent regard, her red serpentine eyes glinting knowingly. She unspooled herself with languid care and stood before her son, already knowing what he was about to ask.
Faced with her ancient wisdom, Hanzo keenly felt his youth, realizing how young he must look in her eyes. Still, that did little to deter him - his driving purpose overshadowed the reservations he knew he should be feeling.
“Mother, I ask to be made human,” he stated with his head held high. Genji let out a huff of smoke in his surprise while his father joined his mate and stood beside her to appraise their eldest son.
“I see,” she replied, adding nothing else.
“That is no easy task,” his father said. “Besides, we cannot change who we are, Hanzo. We take on their form if we must visit their world.”
It took less than a moment for Hanzo to realign his desire. “Then I wish to visit the living world,” he said in return.
“Why?” his mother asked. That solitary word carried an expectation that Hanzo knew he had to meet.
“I bet it’s to see him,” Genji said before Hanzo found the words to convince her. “He wants to be with the human he spies on.”
At his interruption, his mother pinned Genji down with a stare, making him slink to the ground but it was a reply she accepted.
“Do you wish to be with him?” She asked Hanzo.
“I wish to comfort him,” Hanzo replied, hoping that she understood the depth of his conviction.
“And what makes him worthy of that?” she then asked.
“What you wish for has consequences, Hanzo,” his father said to be the voice of reason. “It comes with a burden that you alone will bear the weight of.”
“Nothing happens without sacrifice,” his mother added to drive the point home.
Doubt bloomed inside him, his mind faltering at their words. Before it could take root and make him falter, he realized that this moment - how he acted when faced with the unknown - would define what he embodied as a spirit dragon.
He steeled himself, refusing to let the uncertainty cloud his reserve. “I understand. I will face whatever I have to, whenever it comes to test me.”
Their looming presence made him feel the weight of what Hanzo just said. They were still as stone, transforming from parents to judges on whom Hanzo’s fate rested.
His father broke first - he strutted up and pressed his snout against Hanzo’s to comfort his son. “I see you have made up your mind,” he said as he moved to nip gently at Hanzo’s neck.
She finally moved, her posture returning her back to being Hanzo’s mother. She followed her mate’s footsteps and crowded against her son. She licked the dense patch of scales on Hanzo’s snout once and then stepped back again to gaze at him. “Are you ready?” she simply asked.
The question caught him off guard, making nervous energy strum up a shiver along his length. Too soon, he thought, this is happening too soon. He distantly realized that he felt the human’s heartbeat beat inside him - for the first time, its noise felt too loud.
Despite everything, he still nodded. “Yes, I am,” he confirmed.
Sensing the swirling apprehension and aspiration within Hanzo, his mother mirrored his father and nipped his neck. “We knew this day would come, my son,” she said with something akin to pride in her voice. “We waited for time to lead you to us, and here you are at your own understanding, just as we expected.”
His father stepped away from him and he felt the loss of comfort. “A hundred nights,” he declared, the words ringing Hanzo’s ears. “You will live and breathe as they do, and on the hundredth night, you will decide your path.”
The terms reverberated inside his head, building into a crescendo of noise that made it hard to think. Still, he recognized that it was one half of a whole and he desperately needed to know the rest, feeling like his very survival depended on it. “And what must I sacrifice?” Hanzo asked, silently pleading for an answer.
A sudden surge of magic jolted through him and left him reeling, his vision starting to blur at the edges. Every inch of his body radiated with power, his scales rippling with a fraction of his parents’ magic. He found himself robbed of words at its intensity and he stumbled on his clawed feet.
The last thing he saw was his mother’s glowing eyes and then with a sudden clap he went blind.
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Walking into the market for the first time was unnerving in ways Hanzo did not anticipate. It still felt alien to walk - the skin on the soles of his feet caught on the pebbles that littered the bricked path, making him wince at the pinpricks of discomfort and pain.
He does not know how long it had been since he awoke. He came about with a gasp, his lungs clenching in pain as he drew in his first few breaths. He blindly pawed at the ground, his fingers weakly grasping at the soft moss he was laying on.
He braved opening his eyes and light sliced his vision, forcing him to keep them shut. The second attempt took a lot of blinking and then he saw the trees overhead for the first time.
Without the magic permeating through the air, the living world felt flat. An entire dimension of existence completely removed, and this is what humans were accustomed to. It left Hanzo feeling cut off from the essence of what made him, and regret inspired by his impulsiveness flooded his thoughts. His mind was painfully quiet now that the human’s soul was cut off from him.
Not one to dwell, he managed to stand on shaking legs, his toes digging into the ground for balance. He glanced down and with a start that almost had him stumbling back to the ground, he noticed the clothes he apparently materialized with. Thick brown pants slightly hugged his thighs, and a loose-fitting white shirt sat on his shoulders, both pieces feeling comfortable and lived in.
On his way to the town did he finally realize that he did not have shoes on.
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After spending an eternity surrounded by tranquil quiet, humans are deafeningly loud. They laugh and chatter amongst themselves, their words all blending into noise that leaves him feeling on edge. The setting sun has the vendors calling out the prices louder, adding to the din. The well trodden path to the town forks into various narrower paths where clusters of stalls are sectioned off based on what they sold. Enticing scents make him pause every now and then but he does not linger and moves on.
From the spirit realm, Hanzo knows that the man’s tiny stall - made of aging wood that creaked and groaned with the wind - sat at the outskirts of the market. It was nestled between other stores that were not frequented as often. What the man sold and how he managed to stay in business still remains a mystery and Hanzo now wanders aimlessly, hoping to come across anything that looks familiar.
He meanders through the crowds letting his hearing guide him until he realizes that he has been moving away from the central hub. Soon, a particular turn feels more familiar, almost as if he had trudged down this path before. He follows his instincts and is led to a collection of stalls that are a bit apart from each other, but identical in how they look.
His memories from the spirit realm flash in his mind. Between one heartbeat and the next, his gaze falls on the man and he gasps without understanding that his new body could make such a sound. Thick brown hair frames his face, strands of it falling on his dark brows. His eyes travel down his frame, taking in the broad shoulders and wide torso. Hanzo walks towards him and then he is standing in front of the humble stall.
Trinkets and talismans sit across the display in neat rows, most of them crudely cut or smooth with age. At a glance, Hanzo can tell that they barely hold magic. Most of the wares will be bought as objects of comfort by the common folk, lovers buying tokens of affection for one another, or by fishermen and sailors who were more superstitious than most. They still have a certain charm and Hanzo finds himself captivated at the variety he sees.
“Anything catch your eye?” Hanzo lifts his gaze and notices the man’s eyes on him. He moves to answer, feeling his tongue touch behind his teeth but no words come out. The man flashes a smile - as if hoping to be encouraging - and Hanzo tries to speak, failing a second, and then a third time. He gives up and settles on a shrug instead.
“Well, I’m closin’ shop soon, sun’s almost down and I should head out before it gets dark.” His accented speech is not something Hanzo anticipated and he takes a liking to it immediately. The man moves around, collecting a satchel and shoving things inside. “Still got a few minutes if you need more time?” Hanzo nods in response, now feeling at loss. He has no coins to purchase anything, no words to converse. He stands off to the side as he contemplates on what to do next.
Soon, the man comes out and tugs at the slanted wooden awning hanging over the front of the store. The rest of it comes free after a few pulls and he secures the store, closing it for the approaching night.
“You’re awfully quiet,” he says after he is done. “Feels wrong leavin’ you here on your own. Think you’ll be alright?” he asks. Hanzo finds concern in his eyes but he does not know what to do with it. He nods again and watches as the man reluctantly turns around to head off.
In hindsight, he should have known how naïve this entire endeavor was. He huddles under another wall’s awning, rainwater dripping just a few inches away as the weeping sky leaves nothing dry. He brings his knees to his chest and hugs them tight, hoping it would keep him warm.
It takes little reflection to understand that this was the true test. Robbed of his voice, Hanzo can only depend on the man’s kindness for his survival. The longer he thinks, the more it makes sense - as a dragon, Hanzo thought he knew him inside out but now, the man needed to unknowingly prove that he was worthy of Hanzo’s attention. He thinks and ponders until the weight of the day comes crashing down. Bone deep tiredness tugs at his thoughts. He rests his head on his knees and closes his eyes, hoping to find some semblance of rest. He does not know when sleep enveloped him.
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Someone is shaking him. Fingers grasp at his shoulder as he is shaken again, this time with more urgency. It is enough to drag Hanzo away from his restless sleep. He slowly unfurls his body and finds his muscles cramping all over. It is a novel sensation unique to his human form and he finds himself disliking it.
With care to not disturb his neck, he manages to lift his head and look around. A pair of legs stand close to him and he looks up to see the man staring down at him with concerned eyes. “Shit, you've been out here the whole night?” He walks off, returning after a few moments. Something soft and scratchy is draped over Hanzo making him realize how chilled his skin was.
“Can you stand?” the man asks. Without waiting for a response, gentle hands wrap around Hanzo’s shoulders and then he is pulled, prompting him to stand. He leans against the man letting him carry most of his weight and he hears a grunt. “Why’d you do this?” he asks, leading Hanzo away.
The inside of the stall does not feel much warmer but the walls do manage to keep the bite of the breeze at bay. The man places Hanzo on a small cot pushed against the back wall, then turns a chair and sits facing him. “That’s one hell of a stunt to pull,” the man says, his eyes studying Hanzo. “You feelin’ better?” The question dangles between them and Hanzo feels too fatigued to answer. He hopes the silence is enough.
“You don’t talk much, do you?” he asks. Hanzo musters the strength to roll his eyes. “Well, can’t talk or won’t talk?” That one earns the man a glare who flashes him a dimpled smile in return. “Yeah, that one might’ve been too personal. Knew it the moment I said it.” He stands with a groan and moves about the small space. “I’m willin’ to bet you went to bed hungry,” he says as he opens the same satchel from before and pulls something out. “I’m bringin’ food. You stay put.” He exits without waiting for a reply.
The rest of the day goes by without Hanzo being aware of it. The breakfast meal was hardly enough for the two of them, but he does not complain. He dozes in and out, the man’s voice almost like a lullaby as he welcomes his few customers.
Noon rolls around and he is shaken awake and presented with a clay bowl of thick soup that Hanzo drinks half of. Some time later, he comes around to his body feeling rested enough. He glances around the small space and catches the man looking at him. He makes no attempt to hide his stare. “I’m guessin’ you don’t have a place to go to,” he states rather than asks. Hanzo feels embarrassment coloring his cheeks as he shakes his head.
“Alright,” he says as he starts packing his things. “Closin’ up early today. Been slower than usual and I doubt stayin’ an extra hour or two will make much of a difference. Suppose you don’t mind heading my way?” Hanzo stares at the sudden offer. “Can’t leave you here. Honestly, you’d be doin’ me a favor. Don’t really want to spend the night thinkin’ about you.”
Before Hanzo can indicate an answer, the man places a clay bowl covered with cheesecloth in his hands. “That’s your dinner.” He walks out of his store and turns to look at Hanzo with expectant eyes, who follows the man out.
The walk is somewhat familiar, given how often Hanzo retraced the steps with the man’s soul as his guide. Now, the vibrancy of seeing through human eyes amazes him. The smell of damp soil is strong as they get off road and follow a well trodden path through the forest partially hidden by ferns.
His home is as old as his shop and the door creaks threateningly as they walk in. The man moves further inside while Hanzo stays lingering by the door, unsure of what to do. He lights an oil lantern and starts removing his outer layers. “Sit anywhere you like,” he tells Hanzo while hanging things on a clothesline nailed wall to wall.
Hanzo walks over to the table, places the bowl on it and sits on one of the two chairs. The man follows Hanzo’s lead and walks up to the second chair. “Don’t think I caught your name.” He stretches his legs with a sigh and looks at Hanzo with mild anticipation.
“Right,” he says after a few moments of silence. “You don’t talk. Well, I’m Cole.” Hanzo tastes the name on his tongue and mouths it to himself, feeling his lips curve around it. He chances a glance at Cole and catches him staring. As their gazes meet, they share their first smile together.
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Hanzo falls into Cole’s routine with ease. They wake up with the sun, walk to the market to sell Cole’s wares, and trudge back an hour before the sun sets. Cole says little for a while, mostly sticking to directions and statements, though it does not take long for him to get used to Hanzo’s silent presence.
On his first night, Cole procured a second bed roll and wordlessly handed it to Hanzo. He set out a fresh set of clothes for Hanzo to wear the next morning, along with a pair of his shoes that proved to be ill-fitting but Hanzo was thankful nonetheless.
His small acts of care spread beyond their shared abode as days go by. Cole manages to figure out his specific tastes and their shared meals are often simple dishes that Hanzo enjoys immensely. Their goods rarely sell but Hanzo catches him keeping careful tabs on their meager earnings, most of which is spent on things that Cole gifts him with a comical flourish; a small and practical knife and then a blue sash that Hanzo ties his hair with.
Out of all the wondrous things about Cole, his hidden depth surprises Hanzo the most. Cole holds his body with ease that feels as natural as skin on his frame. He smiles often, his tone never straying from light and flirtatious. But the pain that Hanzo wanted to ease away never surfaces - it stays locked inside Cole, driving Hanzo to restlessness.
In turn, Hanzo thrives to return the kindness. He carves small dragons out of scraps of wood he gets from a local carpenter. He digs deep into his soul and finds the faint threads of magic that still tether him to the spirit realm. He channels that connection into his wooden dragons, hoping that enough magic is infused to turn them into charms of protection, devotion, and love. He surprises Cole one afternoon by arranging the dragons on their display and pressing the last one into Cole’s palm. The shy smile he is rewarded with fuels Hanzo for days.
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It all comes to head when Hanzo startles awake one night, a fading memory of some noise clinging to his sleep-addled mind. It comes again, sharp and clear this time, making Hanzo look at Cole’s silhouetted form in the dark. Leaving the warmth of his blankets behind, Hanzo crawls to Cole and after the briefest of hesitations, he rests his fingers on Cole’s arm.
He stays beside Cole till dawn colors the eastern sky. The barest of light starts seeping in through the edges of the door and Cole finally awakes from his restless sleep. He peers at Hanzo with tired eyes that shine in the dark. “I’m sorry,” he whispers and it makes Hanzo’s heart clench. Nothing, you have nothing to apologize for, he wants to say, I manifested myself for you. Running his fingers through Cole’s hair is all he does.
They leave for the market earlier than usual, both of them eager to leave behind the night and its nightmares. Birds chirp overhead and a toad croaks nearby as they stroll through the path. “I dream about it all often enough,” Cole finally speaks, his arm brushing against Hanzo’s. “Though it's rarely bad enough to wake me up.”
With some hesitance, Hanzo takes Cole’s hand and threads their fingers together. Cole surprises him as he tightens the hold, clutching at it like a lifeline.
“Lost what family I had and barely made it out myself. I was still alive and that had to mean something, right?” Cassidy asks with a humorless laugh.
“Ended up movin’ from town to town along the coast until I got here. I’d gone days without food, I was dead on my feet and that’s when he found me.” They step away from the forest’s shade and walk down the road.
“He found me like I found you. Didn’t know a thing about me but still took me in. Couldn’t believe it and it wasn’t easy at first but he made it work.” The overnight fog mists away around them and their walk is almost leisurely now. “Took me a while to realize that he meant it. He was a grouch, never saw him smile, but he wanted me around.”
A ghost of a sensation floats up to Hanzo’s mind making him realize that he had felt it all with Cole. The quiet sigh of relief and soul deep peace Cole felt echoed across the barrier that separated the living world and the spirit realm, and Hanzo had basked in it too.
“I finally had it,” Cole says, pulling Hanzo away from his reverie. “We’d both been hurt before and it left us bruised but together…I don’t know, we built something. The stall and the hut? It’s his. He had me goin’ around the market to advertise. ‘Bring the people here’ he’d say.” Cole chuckles at the memory and Hanzo dreams of being wrapped in that sound. “Didn’t work half the time and he’d grumble about it but never truly complained.”
They go on for a bit as the forest around them comes alive. It is a kind of peaceful existence that almost mirrored the spirit realm making Hanzo long for his dragon form.
“He was still warm when I found out.” The words are almost whispered. “He’d always be up before me but that morning, I woke up and the sun was already up.” Cole’s next breath shakes his shoulders and Hanzo knows, without looking, that tears line his lashes. “He was gone, probably for about an hour or two. I shook him hard and called his name. Nothing. How could he answer? He was already dead. And I was alone again.”
Hanzo felt united with Cole in this grief. He had felt it along with Cole as it stabbed and carved its home in Cole’s chest, its permanent home. Hanzo offers himself the only way he can. He takes a step ahead and stands in front of Cole, making them both stop. Hanzo reaches out first and Cole is quick to pull him in. He molds himself around Hanzo, dipping slightly to press his face against Hanzo’s neck, fingers clutching his sides. Cole’s tears remain unshed; this time, Hanzo’s warmth against him soothes the edges of pain.
That day starts a new chapter for Cole; he starts envisioning a life and future with Hanzo beside him.
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The first few weeks, Hanzo ritually counted down the remaining nights before sleep. He let it fade to the back of his mind the longer he lived with Cole but never disappeared completely.
It is here now and Hanzo knows his choice. He went to bed when Cole did but stayed awake, knowing that the fateful night was here. He slipped out when it was time - the door creaking as always - and navigated the way to where he first appeared.
An hour before midnight finds him here, the night’s chill lapping his skin.
They manifest as ghosts out of thin air emitting a glow that bathes the trees in soft light. They slowly take form until they fully materialize to the living world, leaving their home behind. They are ethereal, their presence permeating a sense of absolute peace that cradles Hanzo. They kneel on their ground before him and Hanzo finds himself walking close to them.
“My son,” his mother greets, and Hanzo wraps his arms around her scaly neck. He feels his father’s nose sniff at the small of his back. He lets go of her and turns to hug his father too.
“Have you decided?” his mother asks him once he steps away from his father. At his nod, she lowers her head to meet his gaze, holding it for a few moments. She reaches out and touches his forehead, her scales feeling familiar on his skin. A speck of her energy blooms in his chest and it travels to his throat settling there. Hanzo knows that she returned his speech to him.
“I wish to remain here,” he answers. He discovers that his human tone rings deep, emulating a sense of pride and power. He distantly wonders what Cole would think of it.
As before, his father acts as the voice of reason. “This becomes your home, Hanzo. You abandon your true form and the spirit realm with this decision.”
Like clockwork the past repeats itself as Hanzo feels slight tension at his father’s words. “Will I ever return?”
His mother’s gaze is still and unmoving in her reply. “Yes, in death.” She states it like an absolute fact.
He waits for fear to grip him but it never rears its head. He thinks of his time in the living world, his mind running through the memories. Cole is nestled in them all, his presence coloring everything.
He thinks of how human lives are so absolutely brief. Death awaits them the moment they draw their first breath. His human life would start the countdown to his death but maybe, with whatever time death grants him, he can spend it with Cole.
Regardless of his form, time would pass anyway. His human form can hold Cole in his arms and that choice is as easy as breathing.
He echoes his past words to his parents. “I understand.”
His parents do not challenge his choice after that. They share a quiet farewell, both of them taking turns to rub their snouts on his cheeks.
“Genji will miss me,” he says after they are done. This is the only point of regret he feels about his choice. His mother rolls her eyes at him. “Your brother will find his path soon enough.”
When their glows start to dim, Hanzo knows he is now a human. They dissipate as they appeared and the last thing he sees of his spirit parents are their hovering eyes. Within seconds, that is gone too.
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Hours later as the dark night sky turns indigo in anticipation of the sun, Hanzo gently shakes Cole awake. He grins at Cole’s bleary stare and welcomes the new day with a greeting.
“Good morning, Cole.”